


Exchange

by greyamber



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyamber/pseuds/greyamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Legolas and Boromir got to know each other on the quest. Well, Gimli, too, who was kind of eavesdropping here, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and the world belong to Tolkien, I don’t own none of them…actually I myself want to belong to their world too.  
> Warning: No Slash. But hint for Legolas / Boromir …and Legolas / Gimli, if you squint; ruefully unbetaed. And I really need some one to do this hard work. So if anyone interests,please let me know.

“What are you singing about, Master Elf?”

The man walked toward the sky-gazing Elf, only stood two steps away.

“Ask Estel, he’d like tell you, Boromir son of Gondor.”

“Estel?”

“Aragorn.” The Elf drew back his gaze and laid it on the man almost shoulder to shoulder with him, “We Elves call him Estel. Like with Gandolf the Grey, we call him Mithrandir.”

“Sure.” The man looked half puzzled, and then chuckled politely.  
“Have I also a pet name in Elven?”

“Nah.” The Elf added hesitantly, “Not every mortal has Sindarin name. Estel was rose up among Elves, he’s lived around us a long time. So did Mithrandir.”

The man nodded again.

“I asked. He sent me to you.”

The Elf scanned him quickly. Then answered in a low voice,  
“I sang about starlight.”

 

“You Elves always sing.”

After a bit, the man tried again to carry on his conversation. “Not only you Elves, also the trees, the springs which in your palace, even your bows.”

The Elf seemed surprised. After a bit he answered quietly.  
“Boromir son of Gondor, you have a poet heart.”

The man shrugged, waved his hand.

“Not me. That’s my younger Brother who once said that. He fancies Elf, and all tales about them.”

The Elf landed his gaze on the man’s armor.

“What’s his name?”

“Faramir.” Boromir smiled, recalled the white city and all their golden das here, his eyes sparked, “He would be very happy, when we arrived my home. He was always saying that want to meet a real Elf. And now, he can even meet their prince.”

Legolas smiled faintly.  
“But at that time you will be a busy Lord Boromir, would be hard to see you.”

“SO what? We are the fellowship. We fight for the same reason.” He turned and met the Elf’s eyes, broadly grinned.

“Friend?”

The Elf’s face changed a little, after a bit he nodded, wordlessly.

 

Suddenly the man gave a small laugh.

“You know what, Master Elf, it seems that we are not that different.”

The Elf cocked his brow but said nothing. Let the man continue. “We are assembled for the same purpose, we travel together. We are both the son of a king and will take care of our father’s land.”

“We are not.”

The Elf interrupted. Lord Theoden is not the king of Gondor. His clear eyes said, the gaze which Boromir chose to omit, stead of that he asked, “We? But you are Lord Thranduil’s heir?”

“Only his youngest son.” Legolas blinked at the question, “We Elves are immortal. Even if my father leaves to the West, I’m not the one to realm the Greenwood.”

Boromir gnawed it a little, and said finally,

“So you have older brothers?”

“Yes.”

The man sighed, then murmured, “And why I wondered that you are like that.”

“Like what?” the Elf’s asked innocently with curiosity.

“Faramir.”

Boromir sighed a lot.

“Really.”

“Not that,” the man smiled and his eyes narrowed, “Strong warrior but quiet. Sad almost.” His gaze war remote, “I mean no offence, Master Elf.”

The silence stretched, then the Elf began to say. It was his turn to laugh a little.

“You care for him.”

Boromir didn’t replay, then nodded.

“Every time I see those little folks,” he said, watching the playing and eating Hobbits, “they remind me of the time as we were boys, also practiced sword together like them everyday.”

~*~*~*~*~*

“Master Dwarf.”

Gimli looked down, where Sam smiled widely with his plate.

“Mister Gimli, want some potato?”

“Thanks, Mister Sam.” The Dwarf grumbles and took the plate.

“Please, Sam is okay. And he’d like to be at service.” The little Hobbit grinned back, then soon, looked curiously, “What are you doing here, Sir?”

“I was listening…” The Dwarf mumbled only the half sentence with nothing more.

 

End.


End file.
